The Care and Feeding of an Alpha Male

by Jessica Clare

  Like a bad son.

  When he returned to his father’s room, Beth Ann was already there. She sat next to his father’s bed, filing his nails with a pink buffing file. She chatted gaily as Henry looked on with a baffled smile. She’d cut the old man’s hair, too, Colt noticed, and the gray locks had been carefully smoothed down over his head.

  “He’s very good at what he does,” she was murmuring to his father. “The entire time we were in the woods, he was never lost at all.”

  “He was a smart boy,” his father commented, his voice raspy.

  “Oh, honey,” Beth Ann said with a laugh. She called everyone honey. Everyone but him, he realized. “He is sharp like a whip. And never worried a lick about us getting lost, either. He just took care of the situation. We didn’t know which way was north at one point, so he made a compass—”

  The door creaked as he pushed it open a bit farther, and both of them turned to look at him. Beth Ann’s gentle smile made his heart stutter with love.

  His father’s gaze was wary. “Son.”

  “Hi, Colt,” Beth Ann said, and waved her nail buff at him. “I was just helping your dad get cleaned up.”

  He nodded, moved to his dad’s side. His throat went dry; he didn’t know what to say. After a moment, he brushed a stray hair off of his dad’s shoulder. “Just don’t let her put a pink streak in your hair.”

  The old man chuckled. “She mentioned a bow.”

  “A ponytail,” Beth Ann said in a mock huff. “And that was only if he wanted to keep his hair long. Which he didn’t. And he looks very handsome now. Just like his son.”

  Beth Ann smiled, and Colt smiled back at her. His dad, however, wasn’t smiling any longer. He was watching Beth Ann thoughtfully.

  Colt couldn’t take his eyes off her, either. He was so proud of her. Here was his redneck father, the town’s biggest joke, and she was helping him fix his hair and bragging to him about Colt. He got that damn knot in his throat again. God, he loved her so much. He wanted to pull her into his arms and bury his face in her hair. She was at his side. Whatever he had to do to take care of this, she was at his side and would support him.

  He suddenly felt like the luckiest fucking man on earth.

  He moved to his dad’s side, took his hand, clasped it. “I had Dane swing by and get Roscoe, Dad. He’s going to stay out at the ranch for a few days.”

  His dad nodded, looking over him. “You look good, son. Like a man.”

  He nodded. Because hell, what could he say to that?

  The older man’s eyes brimmed suddenly. “You look like your mother.”

  Beth Ann cast Colt an anxious look and she hopped to her feet. “I’m heading down to the cafeteria to get some snacks. I’ll pick up some stuff and be back shortly.” She leaned in and kissed Colt on the cheek before slipping out of the room.

  Colt said nothing, simply gripped his father’s hand as he composed himself. He wiped his eyes with shaking hands, then nodded at the door. “Isn’t that Allan Sunquist’s girl?”

  He gritted his teeth. “They broke up last year, Dad. She’s with me.” I love her.

  But his father looked concerned. “Allan must be furious. He’s never liked you.”

  “I don’t care what he thinks, Dad.”

  He shook his head. “He hates you because of your mother. You just be careful of him, Colt. Those Sunquist men can be ruthless bastards. They don’t care who they hurt as long as they get their way.”

  Odd that they were talking about this. “Beth Ann is done with him, Dad. I’ve got it taken care of.”

  “She’s never going to be done with him as long as you’re with her, son.” He shook his head. “Find yourself a different girl. A girl that Sunquist boy don’t have his sights on.”

  Irritation flashed through him. A girl that wasn’t out of reach of a Waggoner boy, did he mean? “I’m with Beth Ann. She’s the one that I want, and I’m not changing my mind just because Allan is obsessed with her.”

  “It’s not just her,” his father said. “It’s you. You and your mother.”

  “What the fuck does Mom have to do with anything?” he exploded, then bit his lip. Christ. He was yelling at a sick man in a hospital bed.

  But his father seemed to accept his outburst. He patted Colt’s hand. “Because of your mother,” he repeated. “And who you are.”

  “And who am I?” he asked in a dry voice.

  “Not my son,” Henry said quietly.

  Colt stiffened. He hadn’t heard that right. “Come again?”

  Henry gave him a guilty look, ran a hand down his haggard face. “It’s true. I’m not your real father, Colt. Andrew Sunquist is. Your mother slept with him, got pregnant, and when he wouldn’t marry her, she married me.”

  Colt stared down at him in shock. “You’re delirious. The meds—”

  “Allan knows, son,” he said softly. “He’s known since you were teenagers.”

  “And you never told me?”

  “You hated me enough. I didn’t want you to hate me even more.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t give you what the Sunquists had, and I knew he wouldn’t acknowledge you publicly. Your mother wasn’t around to confirm it, either. You resented us enough—you would have hated us even more if I told you.”

  He stared down at his father, at the wide nose, the bushy eyebrows. He’d always looked like his mother, he assumed. He remembered her—pretty but sad. But then he thought of Allan. Of his narrow, blade-like eyes. Just like Colt’s. And his father had been a smiley lawyer who had moved to Houston years ago. Died early, too. He remembered the picture of the man in the newspaper, of him smiling and laughing with a senator. He’d had a dimple in his cheek. The same one Colt did.

  Nausea flooded through him.

  He recalled Allan’s words. “You want her because she’s with me. Because you want what I have. This is some sick revenge game, right?”

  Oh, hell.

  “I’m sorry, son,” Henry said. “I wish you were mine. I’ve always been proud of you.”

  And all his life, he’d resented a man who had no money, but had still married a woman pregnant with another man’s child and raised him as if he were his own. Even after his mother had left Texas, leaving Henry with four small boys to look after.

  Emotion burned in the back of his throat and he clasped his father’s hand harder. “Beth Ann doesn’t know. I don’t want to tell her until the time is right.”

  His father looked at him sadly. “I don’t know how she’ll take it.”

  Not well, Colt knew. Not because it was his fault, but because of what he represented to her. Would she still love him if she knew he was just the poorer, paler version of Allan?

  Or would she be sick at the thought of touching him?

  FIFTEEN

  When Colt’s father went to sleep, Beth Ann insisted on dragging Colt back to his cabin with her. “He’s just going to sleep all night,” she soothed, concerned about the stark look on his face. He’d held his father’s hand all afternoon, and even though the man was going to be fine, she knew Colt was concerned. In a private moment while his father was napping, Colt had admitted the state of his father’s home and the warrants for his arrest if he didn’t get it cleaned up. Henry couldn’t move back there.

  But the problem with the property and the warrants couldn’t be solved that night. At her fussing and Henry’s insistence, they drove from Huntsville back to Bluebonnet, then out to the ranch. Colt hadn’t protested when she’d offered to drive.

  Nor had he protested when she’d checked his fridge, found nothing in it, and insisted on going to the main lodge to make him a few sandwiches. When she’d returned, he still wore that stark look on his face, and she’d had to coax him to eat. He’d wolfed the sandwich down without a thought, and when it was gone, he tugged her into his lap and just hugged her close.

  She felt tears prick her eyes, and ran her fingers along his scalp lovingly. What a terrible, tough day for him. “I’m sure we can figure out a
solution for your father.”

  He nodded, then tilted his face up. She kissed his lips automatically, smoothing her fingers over his cheeks, caressing him.

  “How was work?” he asked. “Business picking up?”

  “Not yet, but I’m hopeful,” she said. She’d always be hopeful. If it didn’t pick up, well, she didn’t like to think about that.

  It’s because of who you’re dating, that awful voice whispered, and it sounded a lot like Allan in her head. She ignored it and slid from Colt’s lap, tugging on his hand. “Come to bed.”

  He rubbed his face and nodded, rolling into bed, fully dressed.

  She laughed and tugged at his boots. “You can’t sleep like that.”

  “I’ve slept in mud,” he said, and she could almost hear the amusement in his voice. “Sleeping in my clothes ain’t nothing.”

  Well, she wasn’t going to wake up with a hiking boot in her back. She plucked at his laces until they were undone, then wrapped her hands around his boot and tugged. It fell to the ground, and she quickly removed the other, just as his hand began to languidly trail up her leg. When she turned to unbuckle his belt, he was watching her with avid, hot eyes. Her fingers stroked over the crotch of his jeans, finding him hard already. His hand smoothed up and down her leg, caressing her. She rubbed her hand along his shaft, then loosened his belt. When she undid his zipper, she slipped her hand inside, cupped his hot length through his briefs. He groaned in need.

  “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, Beth Ann.”

  She gave him a saucy smile. “You always say the sweetest things when I have my hand on your cock, Colt Waggoner.”

  Tonight, he wasn’t in a teasing mood, though. The look he gave her was solemn. “It’s true.”

  She laughed lightly.

  He wasn’t laughing. He continued to stare up at her. His hand moved to her cheek, brushed his thumb over her lip. “I love you.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. He…She hadn’t expected that. Colt was someone who scowled whenever he saw a sappy commercial on TV. She knew he cared about her, had assumed in time that he might confess how he felt. And she didn’t mind waiting. But this. This felt like…a gift, with him staring up at her so intensely, need in his eyes.

  Unexpected emotion pricked at her throat. She slid onto the bed, straddled him, and leaned over his body to kiss his mouth. “I love you, too,” she whispered, and then flexed her hips down over his.

  Colt groaned, his hands moving to her breasts and pinching the nipples through her shirt. Desire crashed through her and she gasped against his mouth. He thrust against her, grinding his cock against her core.

  “Get undressed,” he said, his voice a harsh rasp. “I want to see your breasts bouncing while you ride my cock.”

  His words made her inhale sharply at the mental image, and she tugged her top off, casting it to the floor. She’d worn a camisole instead of a bra today, and it was quickly discarded as well.

  His fingers went to her nipples, brushing over them, his movements gentle and teasing. As she rolled off him to remove her pants, he removed his own. Moments later, she straddled him again, feeling the hard length of him resting against her pussy. She rocked against his heat, sliding her hips up and down on him. She wasn’t wet enough—not yet. So she placed his hands back on her breasts and sat up, gazing down at his intense face, while he gently teased and rolled her nipples against his thumbs. His hips flexed slowly under her, making her body rise, and her pulse began to beat slow and steady through her body, thrumming with building need. Her own hands moved to his nipples, playing with them, feeling the hard nubs against her own fingers, flicking them to watch his response.

  His eyes were gleaming slits as he watched her, his hips bucking underneath her again, rolling gently. “You wet enough to take me, Beth Ann?”

  “Hmm,” she said softly, and reached down between her legs, sliding two fingers into her pussy. She pulled her hand away again and brushed her fingers against his mouth. “What do you think?”

  She could tell from the look on his face that her small movement had pleased him. But her own breath gasped in her throat when he caught her hand in his and held her fingers against his mouth. He sucked one deep into his mouth, his tongue rasping as he licked it clean. “Delicious.”

  Her pussy clenched as his tongue moved over her other finger. Her own hips rocked, her breath hitching.

  “Slide over me, Beth Ann,” he said softly. “Ride me.”

  She braced one hand on the bed, raising her hips. Her other hand reached for his cock and she braced it at the core of her body, then began to push back, seating him in her body. His fingers had moved back to her breasts, tugging at the peaks as she gasped and worked herself down his hard length. And when she had seated herself fully, she sat back and moved her hips, just a little. He was so full inside her, and this way she got to look down at his delicious body. Her hands ran over his chest—so gorgeous. All hers.

  His hands slid to her hips, and when she raised them, he pushed her back down, the thrust hard and unyielding. She moaned, immediately raising her hips again to repeat the motion. Again, and again, she rode him, lifting her hips to meet the upward thrust of his. He felt so good slamming into her body—and without the condom on, she felt even more. His fingers squeezed her nipples, the hard tips tightening, and her body jerked in response to that jolt.

  He groaned, no doubt feeling it all the way down to his body. His thrusts became harder, and though she had initially started out in control, he’d quickly taken back over again—that was fine with her—she loved his control in bed, his mastery of her. When his hands slid back down to her hips to slam her down on his cock, her hands moved to her nipples, tugging at them as he rocked into her over and over again.

  She came a moment later, tensing and crying out his name. He gave a fierce jerk underneath her, and then she felt the wash of his cum inside her. She leaned over him, tracing her fingers over his face, his mouth.

  He pulled her close and gave her a hard, fierce kiss. “Thank you for being there for me today.”

  “Always,” she whispered, and meant it.

  Colt couldn’t tell her.

  He’d wanted to while she’d slept next to him last night. He’d fucked her hard that morning, too, but he’d been unable to make the words come out of his mouth. She wouldn’t understand. Hell, he didn’t understand it himself.

  That douche bag Allan was his brother. It made his skin crawl at the thought. And if he told her that and mentioned that he’d lied to her about that first weekend? She wouldn’t understand.

  He’d tell her. She needed to know. Just…not yet. Not while he was raw with it himself.

  He was quiet as she’d driven him back to the hospital. He knew she was concerned, but she’d simply kissed him and told him to call if he needed her.

  “Hey, Dad,” he said as he entered his father’s room. “How are you feeling this morning?”

  “Much better,” Henry said with a smile. “I’m surprised you came back after what I told you yesterday.”

  Guilt flashed through him. “Nah,” he said. “You’ve always been my father. Always will be.”

  Henry squeezed Colt’s hand. “I’m glad. I’ve missed you.”

  He’d missed his father, too. Seeing him had made him realize that even though he didn’t agree with the way Henry Waggoner had lived his life, he still loved the man. Colt cleared his throat. “How you feeling this morning?”

  “Just fine. Nurses say they’re going to keep me one more day just for observation. I can go home tomorrow.”

  Colt shook his head. “You’re not going back to that dump. It’s not safe. The entire thing should be condemned and the yard cleaned out.”

  His father began to protest. “There’s lots of money in that scrap metal—”

  “And you owe even more in fines to the city than it’s worth. I’m going to have to clean it up.”

  His father set his jaw, mulishly. “It’s my
stuff.”

  “You can’t clean it up. You’re sick, and your leg is messed up. Let me take care of it.” He was sure Dane—and maybe even Grant—would help with the cleanup. And if they wouldn’t, he could always hire someone to haul trash. Either way, he was cleaning out that property. “I already talked to Grant. We have an extra cabin next to Brenna’s and I’m moving you in there.”

  Henry’s jaw set stubbornly. “I won’t be a parasite on your finances.”

  “You won’t be,” Colt lied. “Just the other day, Grant was talking about how he needed someone to maintain the lawns around the houses and tune up the ATVs and handle the paintball guns. I’m hiring you for the job if you want it.”

  Of course, he’d have to run it past Grant, but Grant wouldn’t care. The only reason the man was so invested in their damn business was because he’d go crazy with nothing to do. They could bleed money for years and Grant wouldn’t give a shit—he was loaded.

  His father gave him a skeptical look. “How much does this job pay?”

  “Minimum wage,” Colt drawled. “Take it or leave it.”

  “I’ll take it,” his father said. “If you think I’m needed.”

  He’d have Brenna break the equipment every week just to give his dad something to do. He clapped a hand on his dad’s shoulder. “Absolutely. Leave the rest to me.”

  She had no customers. Beth Ann stared at her empty salon chair, trying not to feel depressed and like a failure.

  She couldn’t even run her own business. She was a failure. She was a very broke failure. Her savings was tapped out. She had just enough to pay her rent that was due in two weeks, but that was it.

  Colt would loan her the money, if she asked. She didn’t want to ask, though. She didn’t want to depend on anyone. If she couldn’t do it on her own, then what was the point? Her phone rang, and she leapt to answer it. “California Dreamin’!”

  “Hey, girl, it’s me.” Miranda’s voice was cheerful. “What are you up to?”

  “Nothing.” She sighed, fighting back depression as she stared at her empty salon. “Just working.”